


and i have lost your face; it slips between my fingers now

by thefigureinthecorner



Series: and now you have to deal with the aftermath [3]
Category: The AM Archives (Podcast), The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Spoilers for The AM Archives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 09:15:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20561897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefigureinthecorner/pseuds/thefigureinthecorner
Summary: She feels bad, a little bit, for saying she still needs to take things slow for months and months on end, but, well.How do you explain that the reason you can’t date someone is because you keep seeing echoes of your ex-boyfriend in them?Or: Joan tries to move on.Spoilers beyond episode 15 of The AM Archives; song title is from All Is Well (Goodbye, Goodbye) by Radical Face.





	and i have lost your face; it slips between my fingers now

The first couple of months are hard.

Things keep resurfacing when she least expects it. Walking down the hallway by Owen’s old office, the medbay, Alex’s ICU, every scalpel she sees, anytime she hears running footsteps, the intercom crackling to life-- Helen is everywhere. Death is everywhere. The memories are everywhere. She can’t escape them no matter what she does.

She does take her own advice and sees a therapist, but, well, she’s only able to give half the story. The therapist she sees knows nothing about atypicals; she can give the gist of it, but she can’t say who exactly Helen was or what she did. She can’t explain why she blames herself. She can’t explain the pain that Helen sent directly to her brain, or why she wasn’t able to fight back, or how Helen immobilized her, or how Helen used Joan’s own goddamn voice to lure Owen in.

She can’t explain any of it.

She understands, now, how exactly Caleb felt after Damien.

Jackson-- Jackson is good. He listens.

He reminds her of Owen, a little bit. It’s the little things; how good of a listener he can be, for starters. But there’s more than that-- how he’ll try to pair up with her on different jobs, or how he’ll bring her little gifts sometimes, or how she’ll look up while she’s talking about some completely arbitrary thing and he’ll be looking at her completely enamored like she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. She feels bad, a little bit, for saying she still needs to take things slow for months and months on end, but, well.

How do you explain that the reason you can’t date someone is because you keep seeing echoes of your dead ex-boyfriend in them?

You don’t, Joan concludes, and the months of dancing around their feelings continue. Joan does come to him when she needs someone to drink with, though; the closest they get to real dates is getting absolutely hammered, but it’s nice to have someone she can trust to be drunk around again.

She lets it slip, one of those drunken nights. Accidentally calls him Owen, and immediately starts crying.

He doesn’t say anything, just pays for their drinks and calls a Lyft to get them home. Her place, not his. Mark answers the door when he knocks, and he immediately hugs Joan upon seeing her, taking her inside. She’s got a vice grip on Jackson’s hand, though, and Mark shrugs and gestures with his head.

“You can come in too, y’know.” Joan nods against his shoulder, still too teary and too drunk to really say anything coherent. “I think she wants you to stay.”

“If that’s alright with you, I mean--”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I mean, it’s her apartment, not mine, after all.”

Jackson stays. Joan doesn’t make it to her room, just flops on the couch and immediately passes out asleep. He sits down on the floor in front of the couch, resting his head against one of the cushions.

“Y’know, you can take the guest bedroom. I don’t think Joan’ll mind me taking hers for the night, if you want an actual bed.”

“I’m good, I think I want to stay out here in case she needs something. But thanks.”

Mark nods and grabs a glass of water to hand to Jackson for when she wakes up before heading to bed himself.

It’s a few hours later when Joan startles awake with a choked gasp and immediately clutches her head. Jackson wakes up with her, bleary-eyed and stiff-necked, and doesn’t say anything when she leans against him and starts crying for the second time that night. He just wraps his arms around her and lets her.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says. “About earlier.”

Jackson chuckles lightly. “I’m honestly surprised you even remember any of that.”

“I remember enough. I just…” She clears her throat. “You remind me of him sometimes, is all. That’s… that’s part of why it’s been hard. And I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you don’t have to apologize for that. I mean, how did you put it? ‘Grief is never a straightforward thing,’ right? I get it.”

She’s silent for a long time, opening and closing her mouth like she wants to say something but can’t find the words. Finally, she settles on “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For staying. For being patient, and just being here.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You can trust me.”

They’re words she’s heard from so many people before, people who have lied about their trustworthiness, people who have left her in the end, and she shouldn’t believe him after all this time. But she meets his eyes in the darkness and she doesn’t see any malice behind them. She doesn’t see anything hidden behind them at all. They’re just deeply filled with love and kindness, and just this once, she feels like she can let herself trust someone again. She smiles.

“I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> me? writing a sad fic and posting it at 2am without proofreading it? it's more likely than you think.


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